


Into the Fractured Night

by SkylandMountain1013



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, X-Files revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5965930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylandMountain1013/pseuds/SkylandMountain1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He feels a fierce compulsion to protect the last of the Scully women. </p>
<p>Post- "Home Again"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Fractured Night

The scrub and trees of the shore fade into the billboards and the streetlights of the city as he follows her down the interstate. 

She had insisted on driving her own car ( _i need to control what i can today,_ she had told him), and he had insisted on following her to her apartment afterwards. He feels a fierce compulsion to protect the last of the Scully women. 

Their cars glide into her parking lot and he watches her walk around to the passenger side, carefully retrieving Maggie’s urn from the seat. He doesn’t know how far he’ll follow tonight- to the step, to her front door, into her living room. He falls in line behind her as she stops just short of the stairs to the building.

Her gaze is fixed on the windows above her when she quietly murmurs, “I need to be home.”

It takes him a moment to comprehend. He’s about to question, to lead her to her apartment, when she turns around to face him. 

And he understands. 

He silently guides her back to his car, hand not leaving her back until it touches the seat. 

* * *

Minutes later they are on the road again, Daggoo perched on Scully’s thighs. She stares out the window as she absentmindedly runs her nails across the spot behind his ears. 

He rolls conversations around his tongue, but waits for her. He may be driving, but she is steering. 

“We always wanted a dog growing up,” she muses. “We could never talk our parents into it. Bill made a chart listing all of the chores we would do to take care of it, and Melissa promised to put away half her allowance each week to help pay for it.”

A bird darts across the windshield and Daggoo gives an indignant snuff. 

“Mom said that even with eight hands helping out, she would be the one who would have to take care of it.” She takes a big breath and lets it out, long and slow. “That’s an odd memory to have right now,” she admits, shaking her head. 

He reaches over to scratch Daggoo, brushing across her knuckles in the process. “Did you ever get the dog?”

Daggoo licks his hand in response. 

* * *

“I think some of your clothes are still upstairs,” he offers, hanging their coats over the back of the couch. She nods and pads up to the bedroom. Daggoo happily darts towards a rawhide bone in the corner. 

He’s placing two mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table when she returns in a pair of his sweatpants and one of his worn in hoodies. The sleeves are too long and the waistband is rolled over three times and he’s not sure he’s ever witnessed such beauty. 

She offers no explanation aside from, “I needed something warm.”

He sits next to her on the couch, knees touching. He is anxious to touch her more, to ease the pain out of her. He instead watches the marshmallows melt into his cocoa. 

“Bill is going to stay for a couple of days. To help with mom’s condo and some other affairs.” 

“Remind me to work from home this week, then.” He thinks he sees her smirk.

She puts her mug back on the table and slips her hands into his.  

“Thank you.” It is barely above a whisper, but it’s the strongest she’s sounded all day. 

He finally throws caution into the wind and gathers her to him. She doesn’t resist and they shift, so she is resting on top of him. He says nothing, but his response is in the way he strokes her hair, traces circles onto her back, and presses his lips against her forehead. 

It is not long before her breathing steadies, and he stays as still as he can. He doesn’t want to wake her, but they are no longer young (in so many ways). Joints will ache in the morning, and so he softly nudges her back to consciousness. 

He offers the bed to her, and she declines. He offers again and she nods, weariness taking over once again. 

He is about to grab the spare blankets from the closet when she calls to him from the stairs. 

“Please.”

It doesn’t take any thought for him to join her in their bed. 


End file.
